Part 3

*****

I can’t believe this, I can’t. It’s impossible. It is. It is. Oh god, I can’t breath. God. I, I… I’ve got to sit down. Okay, calm down, Cordelia. Breathe. Breathe. 

Frantically she looks around her. There’s a bench. There, she needs to go there. Gaze fixed firmly on the bench, she carefully starts to walk over to it. After a few long minutes she reaches her destination. She sits down and then just… sits, not knowing what to do. 

I know I have to do something. Something. Feeling nauseous she presses her head between her legs. 

"Excuse me, madam, but are you alright?"

"Huh?!" Lifting her head too fast, she almost falls off the bench.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you."

Cordelia looks at the man standing before her. He’s wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. A civilized looking man, who sounds British. That observation brings tears to her eyes again. Wesley is British. Feeling like she’s about to cry, she tries to find a tissue in her purse.

A hand comes into her line of vision offering a Kleenex. 

"Thank you."

The British man crouches down "Are you unwell, madam? Is there anything I can do help?"

Blowing her nose, she tries to look at him. Knowing that she should say something.

"Listen, mister, I’m fine. You can go now. And don’t call me madam."

The man looks determined, however "I can’t just leave you here, you don’t look good at all."

"Well jeez, thanks. That’s what every girl wants to hear." Then, remembering why she is not ok, she feels tears welling up in her eyes again. Not caring about the British man, she gets up. "Go away," she says and starts to walk away.

"I really feel you need some help - you look like you’re about to collapse." 

Cordelia stops walking and turns around suddenly. "This isn’t any of your business. Who the hell are you to come up and ask a complete stranger personal questions! And you’re British. British people do not come up and ask anything from me. I-I mean anybody." She sighs. "Now, leave me alone or I will call the cops. Don’t think I won’t." 

The British man looks at her silently for a couple of seconds and then turns to leave. After taking a few steps he turns around again. "I’m sorry. You just seemed so upset and I thought…"

"…That hey, she looks like she can’t defend herself, I’ll just go and take advantage of her." Smiling bitterly, she continues, " I’ll bet you’re not even British. This town is full of fakes." Raising her eyebrows she looks him straight in the eye.

Not saying another word, the man just walks away.

Still standing there, in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling adrenaline coursing through her veins, Cordelia realizes that she can think straight again. Full of resolve she knows what she has to do now. First she will go to Gunn’s, and then they call Giles from there.

She hails a cab and leaves the park. 

****

Standing in front of Gunn’s door she lifts her fist and knocks.

The door opens revealing a half naked Gunn.

"Cordy, whatzzup?"

She walks into his apartment. 

"Come in, Cordy," Gunn says sarcastically. Throwing the door shut he follows her. 

"So, you better have a good reason for interrupting my dreams. I was just about to get up close and personal with Ms. Vanessa Williams."

"Gunn, sit down."

"Cordy, is something wrong?" 

She smiles sadly. "Yes. Sit."

"Cordy? You’re freakin’ me." Not used to this look on her face, he already knows something is very wrong.

"Gunn. I, I..." Fuck! Not going to cry. She tries again. "I went to the Hyperion this morning, and…"

"Is Wes alright?" Gunn feels a lump in his throat. "Cordelia! Say something.’"

Not able to hold back the tears, she closes her eyes. After a moment she opens them and sees a very, very concerned Gunn. "Wes is a vampire."

"Excuse me?"

"Wes has been turned."

Looking bewildered, Gunn jumps up. "WHAT?!!"

"He tried to… to eat me."

"Cordelia, if this is a joke… Let me tell ya, it isn’t a very good one."

"It’s not."

"I can’t believe this. Are you sure? Maybe you made a mistake."

"I saw him. It’s not the Wesley we know anymore."

Sitting down again, Gunn asks the unavoidable question. "Do ya know who vamped him?"

"Yes." 

"Who? Tell me and then we go, get Angel, and kill that bastard who did this to him.

She’s feeling utterly helpless, a feeling she’s not used to. She’s not saying anything, just looks at him.

"Cordy?" Then the realization hits him. "No! Angel? But, alright, he’s a vampire, but he isn’t…" Balling his hands into fists, his voice getting cold, he asks, "How did he lose his soul?

Rubbing her face she tries not cry again. "He hasn’t."

"What?! You’re fucking not serious! Okay, so he isn’t one of my best buddies, but he was supposed to be one of the good guys.

"I thought so too, Gunn. Seems like we were wrong."

They just sit there and look at each other, silently.

"Tell me what happened."

And Cordelia tells him.

*****

Part 4

*****

Angel comes into their room, and sees Wesley sitting on the bed.

"Sire. Why did you let her go?"

"Shut up!"

Feeling his temper starting to rise, he gives Wes *the* look, knowing that he has to punish him. 

"She is our… my friend. You don’t kill friends!" he barks. 

"Sire, I realize that she is your friend, but she shouldn’t be. She’s a mortal and you’re not. You’re at a completely different level."

"Wes. She is my friend and she is your friend, too."

"No! She isn’t. Don’t give me that rubbish. I couldn’t care less about her," Wes snaps angrily.

"She was before."

"Yeah, before being the operative word here," he says mockingly. "When I was a human. A weak human. Let everybody hit me over the head – Wes. Thank god I’m not like that anymore." 

Tired of talking Angel moves to the chair. "Get over here." Seeing Wes isn’t moving, his anger starts to get the better of him. "Now!"

Unwillingly Wes goes to him. "What?"

Suddenly Angel rises and grabs Wes’ hair. "Don’t give me that bullshit, boy!" He pushes Wes to the ground, then opens the closet door and takes out a whip he keeps there. 

Wes doesn’t say a word, just watches. 

"Wesley, Wesley, Wesley," Angel says, smiling at him. "You knew you’d get punished. I’ll bet you even wanted it." He felt the old craving to hurt flooding though him again.

"On your knees, boy!" He feels his cock getting as hard as a rock.

Obediently Wes gets up on his knees, and waits for the crack of whip against his
skin.

"Good boy." Angel’s rubbing his hands in anticipation. 

Wes smiles. He sees Angel circling around him. He feels so *free*, something he hasn’t felt since… since forever. It's like now he can do whatever he likes. Act on his impulses, be bitchy or, most of all, get into Angel’s pants. The thought makes Wes even harder. His old mortal self would’ve been terrified. The old Wes didn’t even let himself think anything like this. Well, not that the old Wes would’ve thought about pain and sex in the same sentence. The truth is that before becoming a vampire, pain hadn’t been his thing. You might think otherwise, because of his violent father and all, but no. Now however, he wants it, craves it even. Now he can’t wait for it to start.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The first blow comes as a surprise, and he jerks a bit.

"Did I give you permission to move?! Did I?" Angel snaps.

"No," Wes replies, knowing as he says it that it was the wrong move.

"And did I give you a permission to speak?" he says mockingly. 

Trying not to move anything except his head, Wes shakes it. 

"Hmm… You deserve punishment for that too." Angel’s tone is almost happy, making Wes shiver.

The second blow is harder, and Wes tries not to move - and apparently succeeds since Angel doesn’t say anything more. Third, fourth and God knows how many blows follow that. The scent of blood is in the air, making Angel hit him faster. The smell of arousal thickens around them.

Angel has lost control, completely. That lovely sound of whip hitting flesh. How he’s missed that. Hell, it’s just lovely. As he hits him again, he watches fascinated as the bruises form on Wes’ back. The welts are bleeding, and his back is covered with them. They must hurt like hell, but his British boy hasn’t even whimpered. He couldn’t be more proud. Slowly he puts the whip on the table. The naked, shivering, bloody man is now on his hands and knees on the floor. 

The sight reminds Angel of Spike. The good old days… But those days are over. He has Wes now.

"You’re beautiful, Wes. Get over here."

Wes tries to stand up, but he seems to have some trouble. After many attempts Angel goes to him and lifts him onto the bed. He pushes him onto his back, pressing the wounds against the sheets, rubbing them, making them hurt even more.

"You smell so delicious." Angel is almost purring as he sniffs at Wes’ body.

Enjoying the waves of pleasure and pain Wes arches his body closer to Angel.

"Tell me, Wes, did you enjoy that?" Knowing very well that he had.

"Very much, Sire."

"You hurt?"

"Yes."

"Good." Not saying anything else Angel turns Wes onto his stomach and touches his assglobes. Massaging them, seeing the welt marks still clearly visible on his skin. A few of the marks have already started to heal, but the rubbing makes them bleed again. Oh, the blood….

Not wanting to wait any longer, he slaps Wes on his ass. "Turn over." Wes does as he’s commanded. Angel looks at him, seeing golden eyes staring at him. Looking straight into his Childe’s eyes, Angel spits a little saliva onto his hand and rubs it on his shaft. Pulling Wes’ legs apart he raises the man’s hips a little and then pushes slowly in. 

This feels so good, heavenly, Angel thinks. Wes is so tight. Angel starts rocking his hips slowly against Wes’ ass, enjoying the wonderful feeling of his cock sliding up and down inside Wes. He leans forward and picks up the pace, moving faster and faster, listening to the slapping noises his hips make when contacting Wes’ red asscheeks. Wes is writhing under him, making sexy little whimpers and trying to open his legs even further. 

Wes’ cock is jutting under his hips. The tip is angry red, and he looks ready to explode. Not wanting to give any satisfaction to him yet, Angel grasps the base of Wes’ cock tightly.

"Don’t!" Wes nearly screams.

"I’ll do what I want. And what I want doesn’t involve you coming." Smiling evilly he speeds his thrusting.

"Sire, please." Pleading eyes are looking at him. "Please!"

"You come only when I tell you."

Thrusting harder now, Angel feels like he’s about to come. He releases his Childe’s cock, gripping his hair instead. Pulling Wes’ hair he comes fast and violently.

He rolls off Wesley, leaving him hard and aching.

After a while, he looks at Wes. There his poor Childe is, with his cock painfully swollen. Almost about to burst. Lifting his eyes to his Childe’s, he sees a quiet plea. 

"Fine. Now you can come."

Wes grabs his cock with his right hand, pumps it a couple of times and comes with a few violent spurts. 

His Childe crawls up next to him and Angel strokes his hair. He feels… content. Happy.

Happy!

Angel jumps out of the bed, but doesn’t know what to do. He just stands there next to the bed, feeling totally helpless. The earlier happy feeling gone. 

"Sire?" Wes sounds worried.

Was that even real happiness that he was feeling? Is he about into turn into Angelus? 

"Angel?"

Not knowing what to say he just stares. And the sight he sees. A naked Wes sitting on the bed. Bruises marking his skin, blood all over the sheets. A bloody whip on the floor. 

Backing a few steps away, he remains silent. Was he already Angelus? What had he done? Again! 

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